Swinging on a Star Read Online Free Page A

said. “Your safety is important to us.” So is the peace of mind of my bride and groom .
    Forcing myself to stay focused, I led the way through the wedding facility into my office, where I offered everyone a Pellegrino.
    As my now-captive audience took their seats, my cell phone rang, and I gasped, horrified. “Oh, sorry. Meant to turn that off.”
    “No problem, Bella.” Brock’s punctuated speech sent my heart into a tailspin. I loved a man with great diction.
    I silenced the ringer on my phone, noticing the missed call was from D.J. I would call him back later. He knew I was with clients. Besides, we’d see each other at dinner.
    Minutes later, we were all hard at work, finalizing plans for the big day. Once I slipped into wedding-planning mode, my nerves dissipated. No longer did I spend time thinking about the fact that I had a Hollywood star in my office. No, only one thing mattered now—the bride-to-be.
    I pulled out my notepad and began to cover the basics. First, the food. Laz, Jenna, and Nick, who’d agreed to cater the big event, had created an authentic menu, true to Renaissance times. It had been Nick’s idea, really. Something he’d seen at a theater he’d gone to once in Dallas. Marian had already given her wholehearted approval, but I thought it would be fun to talk it through with the guys. Let them see just how seriously we were taking this medieval theme.
    “A true medieval feast would have included things like turtledoves and partridge,” I said. “And goose and venison. We’ve decided not to go that route.”
    “The turtledoves thank you for the reprieve.” Brock gave me a wink, and my heart gravitated to my throat.
    “We, um, have decided to do roast quail and fish, as well as a traditional beef kabob dish.”
    “And turkey legs,” Rob said. He jabbed Brock in the ribs with his elbow. “That was my idea. I’ve never been to a Renaissance festival without getting a turkey leg. We don’t want anyone to leave disappointed.”
    “Of course not,” Brock agreed. “And I’ll be the first in line for mine.”
    I laughed but made a point to get back to the subject at hand. “We’ll have a variety of side dishes—potatoes and all sorts of fruits and cheeses. We were thinking pears, strawberries, apples, raspberries, and red currants. Afterward, along with the wedding cake, we will serve tarts and custards. All of this is appropriate to the time.”
    “You’re making me hungry.” Brock looked at his watch. “We skipped lunch, and I’m starved.”
    “We’ll have to do something to remedy that,” Rob said.
    Marian turned my way. “Bella, is there someplace around here we could grab a bite to eat after this? Someplace secluded, I mean.”
    “Hmm.” I thought of Parma John’s but knew it was out of the question. “I do know a great seafood place with a private room. I could call ahead and see if the room is available.”
    “That might work.” Brock gave me a grateful smile. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your spiel about the wedding, though. Go ahead and finish.”
    “Oh, well, I was just about to finalize the flower order with Marian.” I turned to her, trying to stay focused.
    Marcella had recently taken over our local florist’s shop. She had already presented the bride and groom with a delightful plan for wedding bouquets, so I knew we had that part squared away, but I needed to clarify a few things based on a phone call from her earlier today.
    “You’re still wanting to do Texas wildflowers, is that right?”
    “Yes.” Marian nodded. “Nothing too weddingish. I want the bouquets to look just like I went out into the yard and plucked the flowers myself. Besides, brides back in those days only carried flowers to keep from smelling.”
    Brock’s eyebrows elevated at that one. He turned to her with a “Huh?”
    “Well, traditionally people bathed only a couple times a year back in medieval times. So the original purpose of carrying flowers was to make the bride